“He means he wants to go out with his girl this evening,” Tris Tablor said. “He doesn’t want to hang around a bunch of old fogies day and night.”
“Speak for yourself, Tris,” Ben Varley said.
They laughed uproariously. Well, at least they were in a better mood than they had been.
I smiled and didn’t contest the point. It was their holiday—if they got any fun out of imagining scandal about me, let them go ahead. They hadn’t been having much fun otherwise on this tour. It would be a pity to disillusion them by letting them know how dull my life really was.
Back at the office, Pandora came to see me, complaining loudly. I could hear splashing from the bathroom, but the door was shut.
“Is that you, Doug?” Gerry shouted.
“Who are you expecting?” I shouted back. Pandora looked bitterly at the bathroom door and yowled an insult of her own.
“Don’t speak to Pandora,” Gerry called. “She’s in disgrace. She scratched Daphne.”
“She always did have good taste.” I gathered up Pandora and went over to the kitchen cupboard. A clever, discerning cat deserves a reward. Pandora began purring as I opened the fridge door; a saucer of pilchards in tomato sauce was on the top shelf. She struggled from my arms, hitting the floor and bounding up with her forepaws on the top shelf, all in the same fluid motion.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” I wasn’t moving fast enough to suit her—no one ever did when food was involved—and she scrabbled for the lower shelf with her hind legs, keeping her eyes fixed on the saucer of pilchards. I caught her as she got a footing to begin climbing and lifted her away. She swore at me pungently.
Pandora in one hand, the saucer in the other, I crossed back to the desk that served us as a table in off-duty hours. It was probably encouraging a bad habit to feed Pandora on the desk, but she spent a lot of her time on it, anyway. You could hardly blame her; floors are draughty in these old houses.
I slumped into the desk chair and lit a cigarette, absently filching a pilchard from Pandora’s saucer, just to nibble on. Equally absently, she gave me a halfhearted slap with her paw. Fish—all fish—in this place belonged to her, and she intended her proprietory rights to be maintained.
Just watching her relaxed me. The gleam of light and dark fur under the desk light, the way the bright blue eyes moved to meet mine in unexpected communication. For the first time in days, I felt a tight core of tension inside me begin to unwind.
Then the bathroom door opened and Gerry emerged, wrapping a terry-cloth robe—mine, I noticed—around him. Something in his attitude warned me that he had more on his conscience than simply nicking my prized bathrobe. I started to tighten up again. His opening words didn’t help.
“Doug,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t know how you’re going to take this, Doug—”
“Badly,” I warned him. Gerry is a nice guy. A man couldn’t ask for a better partner. A brighter one, perhaps. A less enthusiastic one, certainly. Even one without quite so much charm. But a better one—never.
However, when he started out like that, it boded ill. Usually, he was so ebulliently self-confident that it never occurred to him that I might not share whatever misbegotten enthusiasm he had developed this time. When it actually crossed his mind to have misgivings about my reaction, it meant that he had done something so spectacularly star-crossed that even he began to doubt my capacity for applauding it.
“What is it this time?” Tensed, I waited.
“Well, uh …” He ambled over to the desk and helped himself to one of Pandora’s pilchards. Again, Pandora lashed out with her paw, this time with slightly more venom. After all, he had brought a noisy lady with a detestable high-pitched voice and unforgivable jangling bracelets into the flat to disturb her peace and quiet. And then had the effrontery to be annoyed with a self-respecting cat with sensitive eardrums for quite properly scratching her.
“Uh—Daphne wanted to know more about our business—naturally, I didn’t tell her anything confidential. But she thought it sounded fascinating. I mean, she wanted to see us in action, as it were. She was awfully enthusiastic, and you know how she carries everyone along with her when she gets enthusiastic …”
She didn’t carry me, but I nodded to encourage him. He was slowing down again and avoiding my eye. Which meant we were getting to the nub of the matter.
“And—uh—I’m afraid I’ve promised her—uh—that she can come along with us some day and watch us work.” He darted a quick glance at me and added, in a rapid mumble, “Some day soon. This week, in fact.”
Great! Fine and dandy! Daphne was all we needed this week. Dear little dizzy Daphne, with her dented white Lancia, taking a look at how the other half lives.
“She’ll probably be disappointed,” Gerry offered, as though that might propitiate me. “I’m afraid I might have made it sound a bit more exciting than it really is.”
I could imagine. Public relations—one of the newest of the glamour businesses. That gay, mad, colourful whirl on someone else’s expense account. That never-ending merry-go-round where every grab brings down the brass ring—and sometimes, the solid gold one. That endless party with the jet set, the beautiful people, the—
It came with that blinding light that makes ideas seem brilliant. I should have suspected it immediately, but I’d had a wearying day. It seemed like the perfect way to avoid another day of the same.
Why didn’t I let Gerry take the camera—and Daphne—and escort our little traveling morgue to Woburn Abbey in the morning? That ought to cure Daphne’s illusions about the glamour of it all—permanently. With any luck, she might get so fed up she’d give Gerry the push. It would be the best thing in the world for him. And with his natural optimism, it wouldn’t take him long to come to that conclusion himself.
True, I felt a bit guilty about Tour 79. On top of all their other troubles, Daphne was a bit much to inflict on them. Still, they had wanted to see English life. And the Daphnes were one facet of it. It might not take them long to recognise her type, and they might even find her an interesting study. Miss Richbitch—London style.
If you’re really serious about this,” I said slowly to Gerry, “then why don’t you take over in the morning?”
Pandora was enchanted to have me home all day. She sat, either on the desk or on the back of my neck most of the morning. On her periodic sentry marches through the other rooms of the flat, she would reappear in a doorway, checking, with sudden suspicion, that I was still there, and chirrup encouragement to me to stay there.
We had coffee and a saucer of milk for elevenses, and shared scrambled eggs for lunch. During this, I got a singing harangue informing me that this was more like it. This was the sort of treatment a well-bred lady cat had a right to expect. Why wasn’t it happening more often?
It made me feel guilty—as it was intended to. I’d known Pandora was a great one for company, but I hadn’t realised how lonely she must get hanging around the flat when we were out. Come to think of it, I’d occasionally seen Siamese cats walking with their owners on leads. Looking quite happy about it. Perhaps it might be a good idea to get a lead for Pandora and she could accompany me sometimes.
The first tour pictures were back from the lab and I captioned them and wrote short, glowing press releases to accompany them. Penny had done her work well, and the list of local papers for each tour member was lying beside the envelope of glossies. Some of the towns had three or four newspapers, so I ticked the ones I was leading off with. There were more pictures on the way; there’d be coverage enough for all of them. Even if the tour broke up early, it wouldn’t matter. It might even be a good thing if a couple of stories were printed after they’d arrived home. It might give them a pleasant glow, and this tour was bound to be one of those things that looked better in retrospect.
Penny, too, seemed quite pleased to find me there when she came in. “Oh, you’re here!” She beamed, dumping a greasy parcel on the desktop.
Pandora stoppe
d washing behind my ear and leaped down to investigate.
“We usually have a bit of fish and chips about now.” Penny was rather apologetic. “I hope it’s all right. I’m very careful about watching for bones before I give her any.”
I took a mental bet as to who got the fish and who got the chips. I’d thought Penny was filling out a bit lately. “It’s all right,” I said. “But you shouldn’t go spending your money on Pandora.”
Both Pandora and Penny gave me injured looks. Pandora suggested sharply that I mind my own business. Penny was more polite.
“Oh, I don’t mind, really. I like to.” She stroked Pandora, who leaned into the caress, purring loudly. “She’s such a nice, appreciative cat.”
They were allied against me, and I know when I’m outnumbered and outclassed. I gave up. “Oh, all right, then,” I said. “Just hurry up and have your tea—both of you. I’m afraid we’ve got some work to do.”
“Ooh, good!” That was one of the things I liked about her. She was so enthusiastic. You’d have thought we were paying her enough to keep her happy and enthusiastic. Or even enough to keep her.
Still, things had been looking up at Perkins & Tate for a while now. If all the customers continued to be paying customers, and if we could avoid absolute disaster, perhaps it might be possible to put her salary up a bit.
If … Right now, Larkin’s Luxury Tours was the stumbling block. They were operating on a narrow profit margin in this, their first year. If Tour 79 persisted in their intention to pack it in and demand their money back—well, there wouldn’t be much money for anything else. Like paying the PR agency that hadn’t kept Tour 79 happy enough.
“All right.” Penny bundled up the greasy papers and pitched them into the wastebasket. “Are you ready to dictate?”
Chapter 8
Gerry dived through the door about six, tearing off his tie and heading for the shower. Penny waved at him but didn’t stop typing. We were going to get those overseas press releases, with their photos and covering letters, into the post tonight. She’d already rung to tell her mother that she’d be home late.
“How did it go?” I called to Gerry.
“Go? Go?” He halted and gave me a long, baleful glare. “Oh, it went well. Very well. Not a thing to worry about. I knew they were sitting there behind me—I could hear them breathing. It took a great load off my mind, I assure you. If it hadn’t been for that, I’d have thought they were dead.”
“One of them was,” I reminded him.
“Poor creature—died of boredom, I expect. I thought for a while that I was going to. Thank God for Daphne—she livened things up a bit. At least with the kids. They moved down to the big seat at the back of the bus with her, and they really opened up. Couldn’t hear what they were saying, of course, just mumbling and giggling. But it was nice to have sounds of life, at all. The others were fairly starchy all the way, but Daphne made a great hit with the kids.”
“Fine,” I said unenthusiastically. “Good for Daphne.” She was, after all, closer to their ages than anyone they’d met on the entire tour. It gave me the beginnings of another idea—this time, not such a disastrous one.
“The others missed you, though,” Gerry conceded. “They kept asking for you, if you were all right. They like you.”
“Fine,” I said again. They’d have liked anyone who helped them to keep their thoughts from the void—however briefly. They were also, I was sure, attached to Kate and Jim. They were—I became aware that Gerry was saying something else.
“… and say hello.” He seemed to be suggesting something. “It would cheer them up to see you again. Make them feel you haven’t abandoned them.”
“Down where?” I asked. “Cheer whom?”
“The tour,” he said. “I just told you. They’re downstairs—in the pub round the corner.”
“What?” I was startled. “All of them?”
“That’s right,” he said. “They didn’t have anything booked for tonight—they have a free evening. So, when I suggested that they come with me and have a drink in the pub near Daphne’s, while I waited for Daphne to change, they thought it was a good idea. Now, they’re waiting downstairs, having a drink with Daphne, while I change. But we’ll have to leave them there because we’ve got tickets for an opening and they can’t possibly get in with us—not so many. As a matter of fact …” He hesitated.
“As a matter of fact—what?”
“Well—uh—they seemed to be enjoying it so much—they’ve never been to a pub before—I—uh— I think I volunteered you to take them on a pub crawl tonight. If you’re not doing anything else, I said. I left it open, so you can duck out. But they really liked the idea. It got more of a response out of them than anything else all day. Of course,” he admitted, “that isn’t saying much.”
I knew what he meant. Presumably, they had had some enthusiasm for something once—for the tour, or they’d never have joined it—but they had lost all their enthusiasm along the way. And perhaps something else, as well.
“You know”—Gerry was still hesitating in the bathroom doorway—“it’s funny. Considering that they don’t take much joy in each other’s company, you’d think they’d welcome a free evening to get away from each other and go separate ways. But they don’t seem to want to. It’s—it’s silly, I know, but—it’s almost as though they didn’t want to let each other out of sight. I—don’t feel right about leaving them by themselves.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, “you won’t be. I’ll go down and take over.” Of all the ways of entertaining them, a pub crawl would probably be the least painful. With luck, they might even drink themselves into some semblance of animation. If that happened, after all this time, it would be a pity to miss it.
“You will? Oh, good.” Gerry disappeared into the bathroom. “Tell Daphne I’ll be along in ten minutes—or fifteen.”
Penny had been watching us eagerly, drinking in details of this latest scintillating episode of the glamour of it all. Actually, I was pleased to find her so interested; it fitted in with the idea I’d had.
“Leave the typing,” I told her, “you can finish tomorrow—it’s not that vital. Come along and join us for part of the pub crawl. There are a couple of kids your own age on the tour—you can have pineapple juice, or something, and sausage and mash on the expense account. Entertaining clients—they’ll have more fun with someone who can talk to them in their own language.”
She nearly tripped, rushing to get her coat, eyes alight. I decided it would be worth it, even if the kids hated her, to keep her happy. When you can’t afford to pay a competitive salary, you’ve got to make up with little perks along the way. Amazingly enough, judging from the glow on her face, a pub crawl with a bunch of disgruntled Americans seemed to be her idea of a perk. I hoped she never grew blasé.
“Ar-rahr-row!” I was just opening the door when Pandora launched herself at me, with a war cry. She landed on my arm and climbed to my shoulder, berating me all the way. I was going off and leaving her again! Just when she’d thought she was making progress in training me.
She dug in on my shoulder, her claws grazing my skin through layers of cloth. I stood a good chance of losing my sleeve if I tried to dislodge her, but I couldn’t—
“It ought to be all right to take her,” Penny said. “She’s very good, really. She never runs away…” She saw the way I was looking at her and blushed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was afraid you’d be mad. But I—I’ve taken Pandora out in the afternoon—lots. After I’ve finished my work. We go down to Embankment Gardens, where she can play. She rides on my shoulder until I tell her she can get down, and then she stays with me. She never runs away …”
I shrugged, bringing a loud complaint from Pandora, and gave up. There wasn’t time to argue. I looked for the silver lining. If true, this meant we could save the expense of a collar and lead.
They were huddled in a corner of the saloon bar, while Gilbert & Sullivan selections rev
erberated around them, looking rather wary—almost timid—but more cheerful than they had yesterday. Of course, they’d had a drink at the pub near Daphne’s and were downing another one here—that might have something to do with it. Americans are very fond of repeating the canard “An Englishman is born two drinks under par,” but it seems to apply even more to themselves. However, I was all for it, if it would jolly up this party a bit.
They looked up and saw me. “Oh, look,” someone shouted, “he’s got a cat. He has got a cat!”
They surged forward, beaming, to engulf me. I had not callously abandoned them yesterday with a feeble witticism about feeding my cat, I did have a cat—and here it was. I was forgiven, applauded—we were all buddies again. It was no moment to ask myself whether I really wanted to be buddies with these characters—I was stuck with them.
I introduced Penny and channeled her over into the corner with Donna, Horace, and Daphne. The kids seemed pleased, but Daphne was inclined to be a bit toffee-nosed. I hoped she continued like that until Gerry showed up. If he found her being haughty to Penny, it would do more to break up that little affair than wrapping him around a lamppost in that white Lancia—which he would also take a dim view of.
Tris Tablor brought me over a pint and sat down beside me. “That, sir,” he said, “is a mighty fine little animal, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
I didn’t, and Pandora took an even more positive view. She stood, stretched, and dropped to the table, which she circled slowly, pausing to sniff at outstretched hands, with the air of an actress taking bows. Lapping up the admiration, she completed the circuit, stopping just short of me. She looked at Tris Tablor again and stepped off the table into his lap.
“Look at that!” He took it big. “And they say cats know. Cats really know.” He was honoured, and he knew it. “Would she like something? A little drink, maybe?”
“Milk,” I said firmly, wondering what he imagined Pandora knew. So far as I had ever been able to tell, she knew a soft touch when she saw one. “Just a little milk, that’s all. And she doesn’t need that. She’s been eating all day.”
Tourists Are for Trapping Page 7
